


i'm way up here

by potahtopotato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Light Angst, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potahtopotato/pseuds/potahtopotato
Summary: There is something timeless about the Astronomy Tower. Hogwarts is built on memories, its halls fluid and constantly changing, adapting to the students and teachers who live within, absorbing petty grudges and lifelong feuds, first crushes and true love.A oneshot where, shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, Dean reflects on, well, things.





	i'm way up here

There is something timeless about the Astronomy Tower. Hogwarts is built on memories, its halls fluid and constantly changing, adapting to the students and teachers who live within, absorbing petty grudges and lifelong feuds, first crushes and true love.

Dean feels this the way every resident of the castle does: as a presence in the back of his mind, but nothing more. It's only when he stands here, in this tower that flies far above all other spires, that Dean experiences himself being swept up in the wholeness of it.

People have jumped from here, he thinks. They've stood on these stones, looked down, weighed their options, and jumped, because that was better than the alternative. Dean stares at the ground far below, at the freshly sprouted flowers and the young, fragile grass, and wonders how many bones have been broken beneath his feet.

People have jumped, but people have also been pushed. He doesn't know of any stories personally, but of course people have been pushed. Whispers turning to shouts, words spiraling out of control,  _Expelliarmus_  or  _Diffindo_ , a shove, and—

Dean imagines the scene playing out before his eyes. He's seen enough violence in the past few days that it's not hard to conjure the images, and he fancies he can almost see a figure falling through the early morning light, robes fluttering for the last time.

He could have been that figure. He could be lying in the Great Hall, limbs twisted out of shape by Dark spells and face contorted in a scream that reverberates forever.

Instead he's here, hundreds of feet above the ground, watching pinks and oranges invade a darkened sky. He wishes he still had his sketchbook; it was lost when they were captured by the Snatchers, and Dean would love to be able to capture this moment, this one snapshot of time when he can't hear the crash of rock against rock echoing from deep within the castle as adults and children alike start to rebuild, to reconstruct the walls that were so brutally torn down.

There are still dozens of Death Eaters out there. Too many have been lost, others damaged irreparably. Dean thinks of Luna's haunted eyes, of the scars that marr his chest and back. Of the many more he will doubtless find crisscrossing the skin of those who stayed.

Dean is suddenly lonely. He hasn't slept since before the Battle, and now it's just barely the fourth of May and he is so, so tired. He came up here for some peace and quiet, and he certainly got one, and it was definitely foolish to hope for the other. He wants to go home, though he doesn't know where home is, but he suspects that it's no longer the two-story brick house in Verwood, England.

There are footsteps on the steps, and Dean realizes he's been brooding. Probably a result of spending too much time around Harry; the bloke's alright and all, but far too dramatic.

"Dean? You up there?"

It's Seamus (who else would it be?), and Dean turns away from the parapet. It's almost fully morning by now, and Seamus's blond hair does a nice thing when he steps into the sunlight, which Dean, as an artist, can't help but notice.

"Hey," Seamus says, "you alright? I was looking for you."

"Yeah, I needed some fresh air."

Seamus nods. "Well, I'm going down to breakfast, I've promised McGonagall I'd finish with the library by this afternoon. Wanna come help me out?"

"Yeah, 'course."

Dean can't help but look back before following Seamus down the stairs, though.

Hogwarts is built on memories, after all, and though recent ones have been the anything but pleasant, he can't help but feel that maybe that's about to change. That maybe the damage is unfixable, but sometimes you need to burn down the old to start anew.


End file.
